Two Men in a Boat
by elecktrum
Summary: With the Surprise becalmed, Stephen talks, Jack listens, and a friendship is examined a little closer.


Two Men in a Boat

by Elecktrum

disclaimer: Oh, how I wish they were mine!

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"Have you ever thought upon art, my dear?"

Sitting in the jolly-boat, his hair still wet from a long and refreshing swim, Jack Aubrey paused for a moment to consider both the question and the man who posed it. Stephen Maturin was leaning over the stern of the boat, trailing a small net on the surface of the water and frowning at the results. Or lack of results.

"In what capacity?" he finally returned, tugging his shirt over his head.

"I phrased my question wrong," said Stephen, pulling in the net to gaze at the thin layer of accumulated green. Dissatisfied, he rinsed it off and pointed off to starboard. "Over that way, please. By that patch of sargassum."

"As you wish," said Jack obediently, dipping the oars into the water as he conveyed his friend to the desired spot amidst the tangle of weeds. "You really should learn how to row."

Without looking away from the surface of the ocean Stephen shook his head. "I don't have time to row, Jack. Think of what I would miss."

"You are absolutely right, Doctor. I sit corrected." He smiled to himself, knowing his friend heard and ignored his wit. He slowed the jolly-boat to a stop with the oars. Not a breeze, not so much as a hint of a current stirred them from their place. Stephen immediately began examining the sea grasses, finally leaning over and pulling in great, smelly clumps of the stuff by the handful. Watching his friend enthusiastically dirty himself and the boat, Jack felt equal amounts of affection, amusement, and patience, waiting for the moment when the question of before would be rephrased and presented in a form more satisfactory to the doctor's ends. "What are you looking for today?"

"Snails."

"You need a shore, surely?" he asked.

Stephen shook his head. "The seaweed is so thick here, and so much rubbish has accumulated, I was hoping there might be a few daring souls to be found."

Jack hoisted an oar out of the water, gazing at the hank of seaweed and twists of driftwood he'd deliberately caught on the end and spotting several fine specimens of mollusks clinging on the soggy green plants. "It's not very deep. I dare say you should find some."

"I would not be adverse to a crab or any of several types of seahorses in these waters, either."

He looked harder at his prizes, but saw no crab amidst the weeds. "I am never adverse to crab myself."

Disappointed with his haul, Stephen cast the seaweed back into its element. As he did so he spotted Jack's catch and immediately his excitement soared.

"The very thing! Oh! Handsomely now, Jack, draw that mess in! Don't drop any!" Stephen jumped to his feet, rocking the jolly-boat and almost unbalancing himself into the Pacific.

"Doctor, pray, sit you down and I shall bring the snails to you. Far easier and drier than you going to them at this stage. There. Does that satisfy?" He maneuvered the oar into the boat and slid the clump of weed onto the deck between them, precious snails and all. Then he sat back to watch the doctor exclaim over the fine catch of snails, resigning himself to witnessing hours of ecstasies over mollusks in general and whatever type of snail this was in particular, with a slight diversion to Echinoderms when Stephen discovered a small starfish amidst the green.

He wasn't far from wrong, and much as he grew bored he endured, glad to have given his friend this small pleasure. Soon there was a row of snails along the gunwale of the boat, some trying to make their escape, others more content in the Irishman's company. Measurements were taken, rough portraits sketched, and eventually, as the sun grew hotter still and beat down upon them without mercy, the lot of them was released back to their home.

"Thank you, Jack," said Stephen with a smile, realizing that his friend's sun-bleached hair was dry and stiff with salt. They had been out here far longer than he realized and he was both startled and touched that Jack had displayed so much patience as to be still while Stephen indulged himself.

He extended the oars again and began to slowly row them back to the Surprise. "The pleasure was mine."

"You're hot, you're parched, you're bored, and I thank you."

"On the contrary! I'm dry, I know a great deal more about snails than I did when I roused this morning, and I have had the pleasure of watching my dearest friend enjoy himself over some very smelly weeds and a handful of shellfish. It has been a morning most capital."

Stephen set his notes carefully aside. "What I was saying before..."

"About gastropods?"

"You were listening! No, not that."

"Art, then."

"Yes."

"What of it?"

"Have you ever considered yourself an artist?"

Jack Aubrey grinned at the notion. "To be an artist requires a medium of some sort, does it not? I have my fiddle, though if music be art I can't claim even that, seeing as how I produce poor copies of other fellows' work."

"Well, if artists need mediums to express their works, there lies your medium." He gestured past Jack to where the Surprise lay calm and becalmed, her sails limp and dry. "In the basest sense, the Surprise is an instrument, a tool, and without doubt you are a master craftsman of your trade."

"If she's an instrument, she's undoubtedly a woodwind."

Not even Stephen Maturin could resist laughing at the witticism and he laughed all the harder when Jack smiled so large and bright at him. The captain finally had to stop rowing and the two of them wore themselves out with mirth.

"Has she never put you in mind of a cathedral?" wondered Stephen, looking up at the ship. "Your eye is drawn upwards, ever upwards to heaven."

"I never thought of the comparison, but it is fitting. I have always found her to be beautiful."

"I know. Your face betrays you."

"So how does my ship figure into your scheme as artistic medium, brother?"

"I have seen you labor over her more diligently than a master painter labors over angels' wings, getting each sail and setting just so in order to harness the elements so she gives her very best and more. Some men work in oils, others in marble. You work in wood and wind and line, calling upon the very stars in the sky in your labors. You know your trade well, Jack, better than many men I have seen of equal or greater rank."

"I've been lucky," deflected the captain.

Stephen shook his head. "Luck is made by daring men who know what they are about. Art is a perfection of form that generates an emotional response."

"Ah! But neither I nor The Surprise is perfect."

"She is as perfect as your knowledge and skill can make her at this time, would you say? Are you satisfied with the results of your labors? Did she bring us around the Horn as sweetly as you would have liked?"

"Indeed, she answered most handsomely, as did her crew."

"All thanks to superb seamanship, drill, and discipline, all of which were fortified by you. I know full well how long you remained awake during that passage and I knew the futility of trying to pry you off deck in such a storm. The more violent the weather, the happier you are, it seems. I think your greatest joy is testing yourself against nature's wrath. But do you remember our first meal together where you said to me a man-of-war is the very thing for a philosopher?"

"I do. That was immediately after I threatened to kidnap you, if I remember aright."

The memory was a dear one indeed. "I was tempted from the start, my situation at the time aside. You intrigued me greatly, as much with the prospects you offered as with your own character and candor. You startled me then as much as you annoyed me the night before."

Recalling their first, second, and third meetings brought a boyish grin to Jack Aubrey's tanned face and he could not resist saying, "Quite a lot, then."

"Rather, but I judged in too much haste. I have spent a great deal of my time studying the men comprising the small kingdom that is The Surprise. Would you like to hear my observations?"

"Nothing would please me more, Stephen, provided names are not mentioned," said Jack, anticipating a fine, protracted debate that might last them all the way through dinner and up to their nightly concert. As an unspoken rule they did not discuss the men on ship outside of naval business, but since this was a philosophical discussion of a doctor's careful observations and theories, Jack was willing to forego that restraint here in the jolly-boat. He settled down comfortably, resting his chin on his hand.

The wiry doctor leaned back against the stern, pressing his hands together as he formed his reply. "They are exceedingly fond of you."

That was all. Jack sat mute between the oars, waiting for more. It was almost a minute before he realized that Stephen had said his fill. When the net was skimming the surface of the Pacific again, he knew for a certainty that nothing more would be forthcoming unless he dragged it out of his friend.

"Is that all?" he finally barked. "All these years, all your observations and the only thing you find is that my crew likes me?"

Dripping net in hand, Stephen smiled faintly, having anticipated Jack's reaction and not in the least disappointed. He squinted into the net for a moment before looking into Jack's blue eyes.

"Should there be more, joy? Is it not an exceedingly fine thing to be held in high esteem by such men? Can many captains in the British Navy boast the same claim?"

There it was. Jack Aubrey's charming smile of absolute delight that Stephen could not help but to return.

"Check and mate, brother,"said Jack. "I pity the man that does not have a friend such as you."

Stephen's smile grew broader. "And I could surprise you with the number of people that envy me you."

The captain laughed. "Glory-seekers. They just want a turtle named for them."

"Tortoise, Jack," he corrected.

"Tortoise, turtle - I dare say there are men that would not be adverse to having a frog or even some remote beetle bear their family name. They shall have to seek out their own naturalists."

"Indeed," replied Stephen, his eye catching sight of some small fish amidst the weeds. "I found a berth very much to my liking and companionship..."

He trailed off in a state of distraction so familiar and endearing to Jack that there was no thought of being insulted, and he twisted around to catch sight of the fish on the other side of the boat, his net poised to strike. His quarry escaped, though, and he sank back to his original position to see his friend smiling upon him, that dazzling smile. Words would have been wasted at that moment, and each man simply took joy in the company of the other. For all their profound differences, the affection and understanding between them was deep and heartfelt, and each knew there was no length one of them would not go for the other.

"Some Boccherini tonight?" suggested Stephen hopefully. "We could start with Vivace, perhaps."

"The very thing to suit such a day, Stephen."


End file.
